


The Cottontail Curse

by doilycoffin



Series: Wincest Love Week 2018 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Transformation, Curses, Fluff, House Cleaning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doilycoffin/pseuds/doilycoffin
Summary: When an attempt to give the bunker a thorough cleaning goes horribly awry, Sam is left to figure out how the hell he should deal with the fact that his brother is now an adorable, woodland critter.At least Jack seems to be handling it well.





	The Cottontail Curse

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: spring cleaning

 Dean always liked to tease that Sam was the fussy one of the pair, but he was also possessive over his personal space and anything else that he'd claimed as his own, and expected those belongings to be treated with a certain amount of care and respect. It was fair enough, Sam supposed, considering that Dean didn't always have much to call his own. So he tried not to roll his eyes whenever Dean spiraled into an existential crisis at the sight of a new scratch on the impala's door because he knew how much pride Dean took in keeping her in top condition. He did his best not to put up much a fuss whenever Dean chastised him for getting injured and spent the next several days watching him like a slightly neurotic hawk because he knew that it came from a place of concern. He even took his exile from the kitchen in stride, despite the fact that he didn't think that one very small and easily extinguished fire was grounds for a lifetime ban. 

  
The bunker in general was typically held to a certain standard of tidiness and, to his credit, Dean kept it together longer than Sam thought he would considering that a bunch of relative strangers were clomping around it. It wasn't that there was anyone specific from their band of temporary residents that was particularly messy, but due to the sheer volume of people, it wasn't exactly easy to keep the bunker in tip-top shape. There was the occasional food left on counters, the odd dirty sock left here or there, abandoned half-empty soda cans on the edge of tables just begging to be knocked over, and various other clutter that typically resulted from a mass of people sharing the same space. 

 

Sam argued that  it gave the bunker a lived-in feel. 

 

Dean argued that just because their guests recently escaped an apocalyptic wasteland didn't mean they had to turn the bunker into one too, but he had always been prone to dramatics. 

 

Regardless, Dean had become so twitchy over the past few days, flinching every time he tripped over an errant pile of shoes, and hissing between his teeth whenever he saw spelled food and drink on the carpet, that Sam shouldn't have been surprised when he walked into the main area of the bunker one afternoon after spending several hours holed up in the library to find that the place had emptied out. Even though their guests hadn't been living with them long enough for him to grow entirely accustomed to their presence, it was still almost eerie to find the bunker silent when it had typically been filled with chatter and general noise for nearly the past week. 

 

When he found Dean in the kitchen almost manically scrubbing the stove and muttering angrily to himself as he attacked an especially stubborn stain, Sam approached him with a healthy amount of trepidation. 

 

"Hey Dean, did you... _do_  something to all the refugees that were staying here?" He asked delicately. 

 

Dean paused his furious scrubbing briefly in acknowledgement of Sam's presence before promptly resuming doing so even more aggressively than before   
. 

"They're gone," he grunted, and the vagueness of the response was not quite reassuring for Sam. 

 

"'Gone' as in you're currently cleaning up the evidence of their grisly murder or...?" 

 

Dean hucked a used sponge at him and Sam grimaced  as it hit his chest and plopped onto the floor with a wet smack. 

 

";Gone' as in I sent their Pig-Pen looking asses into town for a few hours so we could scrub a few layers of grime off of this place, you dick." 

 

Sam found the usage of the word "we" to be slightly concerning and knew that he needed to think fast if he didn't want to spend half his day mopping and dusting every surface in the bunker, and he began backing very slowly out of the kitchen as Dean stared at him with narrowed eyes. 

 

"You know, maybe I ought to head into town too, I really need to pick up some--" 

 

"Not so fast, buddy," Dean said, cutting off his admittedly not well-crafted attempt to escape. "Cas gave me some bullshit excuse about a 'Heaven related emergency,' mom and bobby are off doing...something, and just about everyone else is in town, so the only people we have on cleaning duty is you, me, and the kid. Grab a vacuum and some trash bags, because it's gonna be a long day." 

 

Jack had been a bit more sulky and closed off than usual over the past several days, so if Dean managed to ensnare even him in his warpath of cleaning, then Sam knew that he might as well give in now. 

 

One hour and several filled trash bags later, Sam was beginning to concede that Dean might have had a point in his rambling about the state of cleanliness in the bunker. It was,  to put in very mildly, unsightly.

 

There was just no good reason for there to be dirty socks on the ceiling fan; none at all.

 

“We’re getting a freakin’ chore wheel,” he heard Dean yell from the War Room.

 

“That might be a bit much,” Sam responded, trying and failing to imagine a bunch of mostly-hardened apocalypse survivors spinning a brightly colored wheel in order to find out who would be on laundry duty.

 

The he came across a questionable bowl and grimaced; did someone...pour  _Red Bull_  over a bowl of doritos? Were they actually intending on  _eating_ it?

 

“Chore wheel, Sammy! I can only handle so much--”

 

Whatever Dean was going to say was cut off by a large crash, followed by an upsetting nothingness and Sam immediately jumped up (knocking over a trash bag in the process) and ran into the War Room to investigate, armed only with a broom that he tried to brandish with some amount of menace.   
  


It was so quiet that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears and he tried to steady his shaking hands as his panicked brain immediately zeroed in on the possibility that Michael or Lucifer had somehow managed to follow them to their universe unnoticed and had just been waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.

 

But there were no psychotic archangels in sight; in fact,

_Dean_

wasn’t in sight either, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. Nor was the pile of flannel and jeans lying in the corner of the room that Sam recognized as the outfit Dean had been wearing earlier. He cautiously walked over to investigate and jumped back when the pile of clothing began to jostle and he saw a long, furry ear poke through the collar of the shirt. Carefully shifting the clothing out of the way revealed a small, furry white rabbit with tawny markings on its face and ears and Sam stared at it for a long second, caught between feeling relief at finding no obvious threat in the vicinity and feeling a whole new round of concern about the fact that the rabbit was most likely...

  
"...Dean?," he asked hesitantly, trying not to feel foolish for directly addressing a rabbit. The rabbit-- well, Dean, presumably-- made a noise that that sounded like a cross between a growl and a snort that wouldn't have been intimidating even if it hadn't come from a furry little creature that could nearly fit in the palm of his hand. Between the failed attempt at aggression and the pissed off expression that looked flat-out bizarre on the face of an admittedly-adorable rabbit, Sam took this as confirmation that Dean had indeed been turned into a rabbit.   
Somehow.   
  
When Sam took a closer look around the corner of the room that he found Dean in, he saw a small lump of something furry and grey and sighed when he determined that it was most likely a rabbit's foot. It probably answered the  _how_ of Dean's transformation, but the  _why_  remained to be seen as he no idea why a presumably cursed rabbit's foot had made it's way into the War Room in the first place. After safely placing the rabbit's foot into a plastic bag to prevent more people from falling prey to any bunny-related misfortune, he gently scooped Dean up and held him to his chest so he could bring him somewhere he could keep an eye on him while he tried to figure out how exactly to resolve the situation.   
Or tried to, anyway. It was made somewhat difficult by the way that Dean's tiny feet thumped frantically against his chest in protest at being manhandled.   
"Dude, would you just-- ow-- stop kicking me for one second?" he huffed in frustration. "It's not my fault that you got yourself cursed. I could be taking a hundred blackmail pictures of you right now instead of trying to figure out how to change you back, you know."  
  
  
Dean sank his tiny buck teeth into Sam's hand and he hissed at the unexpected pain and held Dean at arm's length in front of him so he could glare at him properly.   
"Alright, you get  _one_  of those," he allowed, thankful that no one was around to see him chastise a rabbit.   
~~~~~~~~~~

 

A few minutes later, he was sitting in the library with Dean perched beside him on the table as he browsed the artifact catalog on the off chance that a cursed rabbit's foot had been logged into it at some point with some helpful notes about about how to reverse the effects of it. 

 

So far, no such luck. 

 

"Do we have a pet rabbit now?" he heard a hopeful voice ask, startling him from his state of concentration. Jack was standing in front of him with a mop in his hand and a look of wonderment on his face. Sam had been hoping to find a way to turn Dean back to normal before anyone else realized their predicament, but Jack looked truly exuberant for the first time in days, so Sam couldn't bring himself to shoo him away. 

 

"Uh...in a sense," he answered, amused at the angry squeaks Dean made in offense at being referred to as a pet. "It's complicated." 

 

"Oh...are you going to cook him?," Jack asked, a bit more downtrodden. "I've heard a few people from the...other place talk about how they missed eating rabbit. They're so cute though..." 

 

"No!," Sam cut in, a little too loudly, horrified at the idea. "This isn't an eating-rabbit, he's just a...rabbit-rabbit." 

 

Jack looked pleased by this and reached over to gently stroke his fingers along Dean's furry forehead, and Sam tried not to laugh at the way that Dean's foot thumped against the table, evidently not able to restrain himself. After a few moments, Jack's hand stilled and his face scrunched in confusion as he tried to figure out what was wrong with the situation. 

 

"Oh!," he exclaimed to the rabbit, his eyes round with surprise, and Sam took this to mean that he must have sensed the rabbit's true identity. "But why...?" 

 

"I'm still trying to figure that part out," Sam sighed. An instant later, he kicked himself for overlooking the fact that he might not need to reverse the curse himself after all. Jack had an impressive set of powers; maybe he could somehow de-rabbit Dean, and when he suggested as much, Jack placed his his hand back on Dean's furry hand and closed his eyes in intense concentration. It might have made a funny picture if Sam hadn't been steadily been growing increasingly alarmed by the fact that his brother was trapped in the body of a helpless woodland critter. 

 

Jack's face fell a minute later and he looked at Dean guiltily. 

 

"I''m sorry...it feels like there's something powerful blocking me. I don't think I can help you right now." 

 

Sam tried to keep a look of disappointment off of his face when he realized that no progress had been made. "It's not your fault," he reassured, clasping his hand on one of Jack's slumped shoulders. "It was a long shot anyway. How about you take care of Dean while I try to dig up some answers." 

 

The prospect of being able to assist in some way perked Jack up and he picked Dean off of the table and cradled him to his chest. 

 

"I'll take really good care of him!," he promised eagerly. "You don't need to worry." 

 

Dean glared at him as best as his bunny face would allow and when Jack wasn't looking, Sam took the opportunity to maturely stick his tongue out at him. When they retreated from the room, Sam looked at the hundreds of tomes on the shelves and tried not to feel daunted by his task. 

 

~~~~~~~

 

A couple of hours later, Sam walked into the dining room to see Jack and Dean sitting at the table as Jack fed him bits of leftover bacon from breakfast. Somehow, the sight of a cute little rabbit cheerfully gobbling up bacon was just...wrong, and Sam grimaced at the display. 

 

"I tried to give him lettuce, but he wouldn't eat any of it," Jack said, pouting slightly. 

 

"Yeah, that sounds about right." 

 

"Did you find anything?" 

 

Sam pulled out one of the empty chairs at the table and slumped into it. 

 

"Well, I managed to get a hold of Rowena, finally." 

 

"Was she able to tell you anything?" 

 

"I had to hang up because all she did was laugh for two straight minutes. And then immediately after, she texted 'hahahahaha.' So no." 

 

Dean chattered furiously at this, his little nose twitching wildly, and Jack patted him consolingly. 

 

"I'm sure you'll get turned back soon. Sam can fix anything," he said, with conviction. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

That evening, Sam could admit to himself that Jack's assessment of his abilities hadn't been quite true and he carried Dean to his room when people began returning to the bunker, partially to try to keep their secret a little while longer while he kept working on a solution, and partially because the whole rabbit-eating thing from earlier really freaked him out. He didn't want Dean getting out of his sight and being mistaken for a tasty treat. 

 

"I'm gonna fix this," he promised, letting his fingers trail across Dean's silky fur. Dean, in a rare show of non-grumpiness for that day, nuzzled into his palm reassuringly and Sam smiled at the show of support. 

 

It was getting late, but the idea of leaving Dean alone in such a vulnerable state, even within the relative safety of his bedroom, filled Sam with dread. He was just so damn small that anything could happen to him, and anxiety clawed its way into his chest at the idea. 

 

"I'm just gonna crash here," he announced, his tone offering no room for argument. Not that Dean  _could_ argue at the moment. 

 

It wasn't like it would be the first time they've shared a bed together. Sure, those times typically involved Sam being less clothed and both of them being a fair bit more human, but still. Probably wouldn't be the last either. 

 

When Sam lied down on the bed, he let out an exaggerated 'oof' as Dean promptly hopped on his chest and curled up there, silently demanding more attention from Sam, who proceeded to gently stroke his fur until they both dozed off. 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

 

When Sam woke up the next morning, it was with a certain degree of alarm as the weight on his chest was much heavier than it was the previous night. Instinctively, he shoved the oppressive lump off of his chest and heard a very human-like grumble in response; realization at what this meant suddenly dawned on him and the sleepy fog in his mind cleared. 

 

"Dean!" 

 

Dean brought his fist to his eye and tried to wipe away the sleep from it. "...Sammy?" 

 

After some brief celebration from Dean at the fact that he was  no longer being lop-eared and cotton-tailed and after demanding that Sam bring him a cup of coffee, he was finally able to explain what happened the previous day and how he had reached out to grab the rabbit's foot after mistaking it for a clump of dirt. Dean slugged him in the arm when he made a joke about dust bunnies, but it was worth it. Mostly. 

 

"It had some really weird mojo in it," Dean continued. "Don't ask me how, but I just know that that dick Gabriel,  rest in peace, left it lying around just to screw with us. Must be why it was only a temporary thing." 

 

"And why Jack said he felt something powerful block him," Sam mused. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Gabriel had probably intended on being around to  _witness_ his prank on them succeeding, but the idea cast a somewhat somber pall over them nonetheless that lasted right up until the point that Dean leaned up on one of his elbows and leered at him. 

 

"Hey Sam?" 

 

Sam looked at him warily. "...yeah?" 

 

"You wanna fuck like bunnies?" 

 

Sam threw a pillow at his face. 

 

It wasn't a no. 


End file.
